To be a Gamemaker
by VLight
Summary: The Quarter Quell card kicks in a year early, disrupting the 74th games. 12 of them may now survive the games, but at an unbearable price. Being forced into the role of Gamemakers, they are placed in unfathomable positions. Every moved monitored, and execution ensured at the slightest sign of treason. Who will thrive? Who will break? And most importantly... What Now? Kato. Foxeeta
1. Field And Snow

This shouldn't be happening.

No. No, not the Hunger Games. Of course THAT shouldn't be happening.

But in the games... THIS shouldn't be happening.

Rising up from the labyrinth underneath... to come face to face with President Snow, the Cornucopia, and a hovercraft parked next to it.

He just stood there. Smiling at us. Waiting. Was he doing it to build suspense for the watchers, or to torture us?

A minute passed. For sure. It felt like five before he spoke.

"My Tributes. I was surprised this morning to have a message from the Maker of Games."

The Maker Of Games. The illustrious title of the first Head Gamemaker.

Sadistic, Cruel, and given mostly unlimited power in his designs. His art would become the groundwork for all that would come after.

In the first game those who were reaped had their families brought to the capital as well.

Being broadcast across the sky was their youngest living family member.

They were given a directive: Kill a tribute in 24 hours, or one of your loved ones die. Kill yourself, they all die.

What he didn't mention was not defending yourself counted the same as killing yourself.

The first blood bath killed 11 tributes, and 9 of their families.

It was strange the first reaping. Almost as if it was staged. No family had less than 3 kids. Almost... well almost as if it was rigged.

Of course. It wasn't. The capital wouldn't do that.

In the first 20 minutes of the Hunger Games 61 citizens of Panem were executed.

The Maker of Games was borne.

He retired after the 24th Hunger Game, but not before playing his last trick. The...

"Apparently the Quarter Quell next year requires... a Certain preparation from this years game."

Of course. When it comes to the psychopath expect the freaking unexpected.

In the fourth games the cornucopia was filled with nothing but water bottles. Half of them were filled with poison.

It was in the desert.

It was this bastard that crafted a thousand cards to torture Panem with for the next twenty-five thousand years.

I wonder if even he realized Panem would fall before then? Or perhaps his last card reaps every living citizen?

"Of the 24 tributes in this arena, none will be declared Victor."

What? I... What? Prim! Gale!

"Instead, when there are 12 left, the games will end. These remaining 12 will become citizens of the Capitol."

50%. One out of Two. I can survive. Peeta can survive. Why? The Capitol knows NO Mercy.

"They will have the prestigious honour of joining the ranks of the game makers."

This. No. They can't be meaning to-

"In doing so they will be doing something never done next year!"

My God. Please. PLEASE.

"Next year the tributes will be the families of all the tributes this year!"

I can't breathe. Why Can't I breath. He couldn't have said.

No. He did.

Prim. Mom. They have just been reaped. Peeta's father, mother, brothers.

And I must either die here, or aid in their deaths.


	2. Odds

For those of you who take authors musical suggestions to pair with chapters.  
I give you Metric - Gold Guns Girls (Acoustic)  
The following string of Characters refer to a youtube video: aqFO88ElQrk

I do not own the Hunger Games, Sadly. Would I take part in one to attempt to own it? Probably not. Would You?

Now, here is more story!

* * *

Peeta and I looked into each others eyes then. Not in an attempt to comfort one another, but just to be there.

To affirm that the nightmare is real. And beyond that, shared.

Across Panem people despairing the loss of a family member, secretly shamefully grateful it wasn't them, must now start to come to terms with a new reality.

The chances of their family member surviving is much, much, better than their own.

1 in 2. VS.. 1 in what?

1 in 70? 80? 90?

Will those bastards force a toddler, or, District 13 forbid, a baby into the games?

When Snow finally resumes speaking, my attention shifts between Snow and the closest tributes.

"Well, enough about the Quell. For Now. I can assure you, Panem, the rest of the details will be freely available at the traditional card reading."

The rest of the Gory Little Details. Sickening.

"For now, we do have a Hunger Games to run."

The little girl from 11 has tears running down her face. The boy from either five or six is trembling a bit.

Wetness on my palms draws my attention. It wasn't perspiration like I had originally thought.

My nails so expertly crafted had drawn blood from clenching it into a fist.

There is no pain. There is only anger.

Pure fire coursing through my veins.

I had volunteered to save Prim. In doing so I have condemned her to even more certain death.

Prim. Sweet dear Prim. She could have made it to twelve. Most likely.

Damn them and their games.

"I will be off now, children, do behave yourselves. And remember..."

In a blink of an eye the boy from five or six is running at Snow.

Of course! They wouldn't want to risk Snow with the mines.

Before I could join him in his charge, he collapses clutching his arm.

Where he was injected with the 'tracker' and apparently 'kill-switch'.

The peacekeepers standing in the shadow of the Cornecopia rush over, picking up his body.

They swiftly drag him back to the ship.

"Oh! How amusing. I did say behave... I do think this calls for a minor change."

That Tone.

Oh! In a slightly surprised and condescending manner.

Oh! As if you thought you could even Touch Me.

Oh! As if your life ending was as surprising as noticing you accidentally stepped on a bug.

How Amusing. What Arrogance. What Ego. I want to skin Snow alive in his home.

"Well, since District 5 will be a tribute short this year, it makes sense for District 6 to send a new tribute next year. With their whole family as well! How Exciting, a district will still have their reaping day!"

"In fact, let's make it official. Any tribute who fails to do their duty, as tribute or otherwise, will result in an additional tribute from that tributes District. It is only fair."

More blackmail. More over or heads so when some of us become 'Game Makers' if we don't do as we are told, our friends pay the consequences.

This isn't a Hunger Games anymore. It is now who dies in slavery in the arena or those who dies in slavery outside of it.

"Now... As I was Saying... Before I was rudely interrupted."

Would it be better to die now, or die later?

"May the Odds Be Ever In Your Favor!"

Which one is favorable though!?


End file.
